


Delectable Fear

by learningthetrees



Category: Hannibal Lecter Series - All Media Types, Hannibal Lecter Tetralogy - Thomas Harris
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-25
Updated: 2018-04-25
Packaged: 2019-04-27 13:39:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 842
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14426574
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/learningthetrees/pseuds/learningthetrees
Summary: If she were her own person, she could leave at any moment, or she could understand everything and still choose him. If he were controlling her from within her own psyche, she was nothing but a victim, an unaware lamb being led. Neither was a part of her she wanted to recognize.





	Delectable Fear

He was an entirely different animal when he was asleep. Awake, his mind whirred miles a minute, always calculating, always precise. He could act and react with catlike reflexes, muscles always poised to spring. But under the cover of sleep, his hard features softened and his chest rose and fell with a comforting rhythm. He could have been just any other man.

But he wasn’t. Clarice knew who he was when he was awake: Hannibal Lecter, doctor, sophisticate, wanted fugitive. She knew what he was capable of. A hand that had cut flesh and broken necks lay, heavy with sleep, on the pillow beside Clarice — the same hand that had caressed her hair and traveled softly over the landscape of her skin only hours ago. There was a sudden rush of heat to Clarice’s face, and she sat up, throwing her legs over the side of the bed and cradling her head in her hands.

Images burned into the dark behind her eyes: red blood on bodies rent and torn, gory destruction wrought by the man lying next to her. Unbidden, her breaths came in gasps as she shuddered. How could she reconcile his past with his present? How was the man responsible for so much death the same man who wanted to protect her?

Clarice heard him stir beside her and felt a warm, soothing hand glide across her back. She looked over her shoulder to see him, propped up on an elbow, his fingers gently smoothing her hair. He gave her a knowing smile, although his brows were drawn in confusion.

“What woke you?” he asked.

Clarice shrugged. She couldn’t remember what had woken her; it could have been a sound or a dream or her own fear bubbling from the unconscious to the conscious. Hannibal’s hand traveled up to the nape of her neck, and she involuntarily flinched at the feel of his fingers on her flesh.

He gave a low chuckle. “What are you so afraid of?”

“I’m not sure of anything anymore,” she muttered, almost to herself.

He cocked his head. “What was that?”

“I don’t know myself anymore,” she said, louder this time. It had been a few weeks, but there were still some things she couldn’t remember. Sometimes, a memory would strike her and then vanish, like waves racing away from the shore. She thought she’d spoken to her father, but that was impossible. Her world was suddenly one with Hannibal’s: music and culture and high living. During the day, it was easy to lose herself in such a whirlwind, easy to forget. But whenever she woke suddenly, tangled in his cool dark sheets, the fear came rushing back.

Hannibal tucked her hair behind her ear. “You feel as though you’re losing yourself, or becoming someone else entirely.” It wasn’t a question — he gave voice to her thoughts with absolute confidence. “But you will always be exactly who you are, who you were meant to be.”

“How can you be so sure?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

“We all evolve,” he said. His eyes, bright as if lit from inside, bored into hers. “We make choices, alterations. But our essence is what remains.”

“My essence?” she repeated, looking away. “I don’t know if I ever knew what that was.”

“Clarice.” He spoke with such conviction, such hurt, that she couldn’t help but look back at him. “You believe in your own autonomy. You wouldn’t be here with me now if you didn’t want to be.”

Her retort died in her throat. Was he right? What did that mean about her? If she were her own person, she could leave at any moment, or she could understand everything and still choose him. If he were controlling her from within her own psyche, she was nothing but a victim, an unaware lamb being led. Neither was a part of her she wanted to recognize.

“And why are you here with me?” She wanted to know, wanted to hear him say it. Maybe the darkness of the night would loosen his tongue and allow him, for once, to speak without repression or composure. For once, maybe he’d be honest.

He sat back and sighed, and for a moment she couldn’t ascertain whether he was thinking or growing frustrated. Then he gave her one of his rare smiles. “I’m here because I believe you are more than you’ve been treated. The place you’ve had in your world…You deserve better. I want to help you reach that.”

She felt herself being drawn to him, magnetically closing the space between them until they shared the same breath. “Why?” she whispered.

“You enthrall me.” And then his hand was on her jaw, bringing her lips to his. He inhaled as the kiss deepened, Clarice slipping her arms around his neck and holding him to her. She fleetingly wondered if he could taste her fear. _What are you so afraid of?_ Maybe if she knew the answer, she could admit it to herself, and she wouldn’t be afraid anymore.

**Author's Note:**

> Find me at [ask-learningthetrees.tumblr.com](http://www.ask-learningthetrees.tumblr.com)!


End file.
